


heaven cannot hold him, nor earth sustain

by Pyracantha



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ancient Rome, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gifts, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Saturnalia, Winter Wonderland Zine 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:28:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29101020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyracantha/pseuds/Pyracantha
Summary: It’s Saturnalia and Crowley has a special gift for Aziraphale.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 31
Collections: Good Omens Winter Wonderland Zine





	heaven cannot hold him, nor earth sustain

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!   
> This was written for the Winter Wonderland Zine 2020 - my first and I was proud to be a part of raising money for the Trevor project & alt.org.uk! ♥️

_ 41 AD - a forest just outside Rome _

Crowley is listing to the side, almost falling into the tree he’s leaning on. His slouch is not helping in this department, nor is the two amphora full of wine he’s already had. He’s waiting for the angel. And isn’t that an eternal thought he has to slot into his brain’s “in no way am I waiting for an angel to arrive, much less nervous or excited by the prospect” overflowing inbox. 

The breeze blowing his way smells of the small forest of cypress and pine he’s waiting in. Then a subtle suggestion of flowers, honeysuckles, and a bit of ozone waft towards him. He can’t stop the smile that blooms on his face or the blush on his cheeks. He’ll chalk that up to the wine thank you. 

Then he sees Aziraphale. It never stops being a delight, he could sink forever into one of the angel’s smiles. Just flotsam drifting on the glowing sweetness. He shakes his head and tries to pull his smile back, schooling his unruly features for their reaction to the sight of the angel. 

“Io Saturnalia, Angel!” His tongue tangles a bit on the greeting but he can see the angel is just as pink cheeked and tipsy as he is. 

“Io Saturnalia to you, my dear! What a lovely spot to meet!” Aziraphale is weaving a bit from his own celebratory wine. He approaches Crowley and kisses him hello with relish. 

They have been taking advantage of the Roman greeting customs to push a few new boundaries. This one, kissing hello, has quickly gotten slightly beyond Crowley’s control. Every meeting in the past few months has started with a kiss.The first few were quick and chaste, almost furtive. 

“Just keeping with the customs, Crowley.” the angel said as Crowley blushed red as an apple, unintelligible syllables falling from the lips Aziraphale had just kissed. 

As they continued meeting up the kisses slowly became more familiar, more heated. Now the angel fairly devours him. 

Kissing Aziraphale makes Crowley’s whole body light up, tasting the wine the angel has been drinking and the underlying honeyed holiness of his mouth. He could kiss Aziraphale a thousand years and never tire of it. 

Unfortunately the consequence of all these kisses has been a constant low simmer of want radiating from his body. It’s been altogether distracting but Crowley is hoping tonight’s gift exchange might help tamp down some of the sparking electricity he feels whenever he brushes up against the angel’s essence in the city.

He now finds himself rather well pinned to the tree he’d been leaning on. Crowley’s pleasure at being pinned is painfully obvious as the angel has his leg firmly wedged between the demon’s thighs. He can’t help but whine a bit when Aziraphale pulls back just enough to whisper “I thought we were meeting to exchange gifts.” He punctuates his sentence with a nip at Crowley’s lip that makes the demon happy he’s leaning against a tree as his knees almost give out.

“Let’s sit then, Angel.” Crowley suggests, sinking down as if it was his idea and not merely his legs refusing to hold him up any longer. 

“Oh yes, lets.” Aziraphale lowers himself down to sit side by side with Crowley, leaning into his shoulder. 

Crowley lets himself enjoy the feeling of the angel pressed all along his side. The angel is excited and his cheeks are pink as he leans into Crowley. He watches as Aziraphale rummages around in his toga. 

The angel’s hand comes out with a comb. A lovely little thing carved of bone, the entire shaft made with two serpents entwined. The carving is so fine you can see every tiny scale. He lays it in Crowley’s hand and wraps the demon’s fingers around it just so. Almost as if he’s given Crowley a flame to keep safe.

“Here you are, my dear.” he beams and pats Crowley’s hand as he holds the delicate comb. 

Crowley opens his hand to stare at the delicate piece. He strokes the top of the comb with a finger. “It’s beautiful, Aziraphale.” 

He holds it carefully, already thinking of where to put it in his rooms so he can see it every time he wakes. His eyes get misty as he thinks of the angel finding something so pretty and bringing it to him as a gift. He tries to shake those thoughts out of his head so he can get back to the gift he wants to give the angel.

He clears his throat awkwardly and tries for lightness. “I’ll have to use it to brush out some of these curls.” He motions to his hair awkwardly. His long fingers brush his temples, his hand fluttering down like a leaf falling.

Aziraphale says quietly, “I do so like your hair long. Suits you.” 

Crowley fidgets and tries to screw up his courage to tell the angel what he has brought to him. Aziraphale just waits patiently, a smile softly illuminating his face. 

“So ah, Angel, I  _ do  _ have a little gift for you.” he says shyly, a blush painting his cheeks. “ It’s not much but I wanted you to have it tonight.” 

He turns so they are face to face, Aziraphale’s lips so close he can almost taste the wine on them. “Angel,” he whispers, “my gift, well it’s just me. The smallest gift for the most important person.” He looks into Aziraphale’s eyes, his feelings written plain on his face. 

The angel’s ears go as pink as his cheeks. His smile is blinding and he leans just far enough for their lips to meet. A gentle press, tender and sweet. Nothing like the heated greeting they’ve just shared. Crowley sighs into it, his eyes closing and his body melting into Aziraphale as the angel’s hands come up to cup his cheeks. 

He’s had months to imagine this and it was never this slow slide into a building pleasure. It was always hot and hard, wet and fast. He had never thought Aziraphale kissing his forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks, would make his heart beat so fast in his chest. Like a bird trapped and trying to free itself. That the angel sliding his mouth to his ear and whispering, “but what a precious gift for me”, would make him feel dizzy and light. A feather drifting down from a wind tossed sky. 

He feels unmoored, his only grounding the sweet press of angelic lips on his throat. He feels himself being laid back on ground covered in a bed of pine needles that slide against his body. As Aziraphale moves his hand to unpin his cloak Crowley is startled to find his hands already inside the angel’s toga. He hisses in pleasure as he feels hot soft skin. Aziraphale moans as he slides his tongue into the divot of Crowley’s collarbone. He pulls back to look into the golden eyes of his most cherished and Crowley can see his love glowing like a dark star in his eyes. 

In a snap he’s laid out on his cloak, bare to Aziraphale’s gaze. He can feel it like a brand. It blazes into the dark parts of his heart and makes him feel something like hope. Crowley ignores the wetness on his cheeks as Aziraphale leans down to kiss him, speaking holy words into his unholy mouth. 

The angel sips every moan from his mouth as they press close together. Crowley has one hand buried in cloud bright curls and one hand on Aziraphale’s hip, pulling him in close. The friction of the weave of the angel’s toga is tantalizing on his bare skin. It makes the demon arch up into Aziraphale’s softness, fitting his sharp angles into the plushness of Aziraphale’s body. With a groan of impatience the angel snaps and his toga is unwrapped and folded next to them. 

They wind together like the serpents on the comb. Twining their bodies together so tightly, not wanting an atom between them. Their hot lengths pressed between them as they grind into each other, their lips never ceasing their kiss. 

Crowley couldn’t say how long they last like this, it could have be minutes or days. It feels like building a star. The small dot of heat and light, growing ever larger, taking over his whole body. Aziraphale’s moans into his skin wind him even tighter. They rock together, their slickness making their movements a glide against soft skin, the crease of their hips a perfect friction. 

Aziraphale is pulling Crowley’s hair back to have better access to his throat, growling as his mouth learns the meaning of covetousness. Crowley’s eyes roll back as Aziraphale gives an enthusiastic tug and sinks his teeth into the demon’s shoulder. He can’t even give the angel a warning as his vision whites out and he keens the angel’s name like a prayer. 

Hearing his name spoken brokenly from Crowley’s lips drops Aziraphale over the edge and he comes with a sigh, his lips on the demon’s temple. They lie together catching their breaths and smiling incandescently at each other. Crowley gives a lazy snap and they are dry and comfortable as they cuddle on top of Crowley’s cloak. 

As Crowley’s fingers trail up and down Aziraphale’s arm the angel shifts so he can look Crowley in the eye. “I think, my dear, that I will cherish this gift.” he hums contentedly and lays his head back onto the demon’s shoulder. 

“Me too, Aziraphale.” Crowley smiles but inside he realizes with a sinking heart that his gift has done absolutely nothing at all to reduce his problem of wanting the angel at every minute of the day. He can only hope that he can find another gift giving opportunity soon and that the angel will be just as amenable to the exchange at the next one. Though judging from his reaction to this one Crowley thinks he might be able to convince him that everyone gives presents on alternate Tuesdays and Thursdays. Crowley sighs happily and snuggles closer. Well, perhaps this was the perfect solution to his problem after all.   



End file.
